


Mystery Man

by Fire_Bear



Series: FrUK Spring Festival 2017 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Day 3, First Meetings, FrUKSpringFestival2k17, Life Saving, M/M, Memory Alteration, Multiple First Meetings, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: Francis keeps seeing this mystery man in his life recently. Just who is he and why is Francis drawn to him so much?





	Mystery Man

**Author's Note:**

> Despite being a Matrix AU, this has very little action or sci-fi…

The light had changed to signal that he could cross the road when Francis heard the commotion behind him. Startled, he turned, listening hard at what had attracted his attention, and heard shouts and the sound of several people running. Blinking, he watched men with long coats and dark sunglasses dart through the slow-moving crowd. More men, this time in suits followed them, looking angry. Wondering what that had been about, he turned and stepped off the pavement.

That was a mistake. While he had been watching the incident, the lights had changed once more and the cars were now moving. As he realised this, he swayed on his feet, trying to decide whether to continue across now that he was on the road or stumble back. However, it seemed to be far too late as the noise of something large drew closer and he turned his head to see a truck heading straight for him.

Suddenly, something jerked his collar back, dragging him back onto the pavement. Shocked and breathless, Francis collapsed into someone's arms who easily held him up despite his sudden weight. The truck passed by, the wind from its passing ruffling Francis's hair. He stayed as still as possible, breathing heavily.

Eventually, whoever was holding him gave him a light shove and Francis regained his feet. Turning, Francis breathlessly said, "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," said the man, gruffly. He was a little shorter than Francis with messy blond hair. Like the men from before, he wore a long coat, this one a dark red. Sunglasses covered his eyes but couldn't hide his thick eyebrows. He raised one of them as Francis stared and then glanced over his shoulder. "Well, I need to go. See you around." And, with that, he left.

Francis frowned after him, confused as to how he could possibly see the man again when he didn't know his name or whether he lived in the city or not. Then he shrugged a shoulder and turned to try to cross the road once more – without the near death experience this time, of course. When he turned, however, he jumped and stepped back, surprised by the larger man in a suit who was staring down at him with an eerie smile.

"Hello, Mister Bonnefoy," he said.

"How do you know my name?" Francis asked, stepping back.

"I'm afraid that doesn't matter. What matters is that you forget what just happened."

"What do you me-?" Francis began but he broke off as the man grabbed his face. Before he could protest, a sharp pain shot through his head. All he could feel was the fire spreading through him – and then nothing.

* * *

By the time he reached work that morning, Francis had a splitting headache. He made sure to take some painkillers before he went to his desk and start on his work. It was a pretty boring morning, doing little for his headache, so he was glad when a friend came by to speak to him.

"Were you caught up in it?" Ludwig asked with a concerned frown.

"In what?" Francis inquired, blinking up at him as he leaned against the wall of Francis's cubicle.

"The chase with the terrorists this morning. They chased them right through one of the streets you walk along."

Francis shook his head. "I must have just missed it," he told Ludwig.

"Good. You don't know what those kinds of people could do to you when they're running from the authorities."

"Mm," said Francis, wincing as a pang of pain went through his head.

"Are you okay?" Ludwig had evidently not missed Francis's discomfort.

"I'm fine." Francis waved him off and returned to his work, looking forward to his lunchbreak.

When it finally came, Francis made his way to a café just down the street. It was a simple place with sandwiches, a few hot dishes and lovely, soothing coffee. Since it was so sunny out, as usual, Francis sat outside after he had ordered and waited for the cute waitress behind the counter to bring it out. He loosened his tie to cool down and kept himself alert so that he could thank the brunette when she appeared.

Instead, a man sat down opposite him.

Blinking, Francis stared at him. The man had messy blond hair and wore a long coat, made of a thick, dark red material. Francis wondered how he could be comfortable wearing it in this heat. Sunglasses covered his eyes but couldn't hide his thick eyebrows. "See?" said the man. "I knew we'd see each other again."

"I'm... I'm sorry?" Francis said, slowly. "Have we met before?"

There was a short silence. Francis got the impression that the man was staring at him. Finally, the man clicked his tongue. "Dammit. They got to you before I could." He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment while Francis wondered whether he should say something. Then, abruptly, the man stood. "This isn't over," he said and stalked off.

Francis watched him go, wondering what had just happened.

* * *

Strangely, Francis next saw the man coming out of his neighbour's flat. Luca was a lovely young man whom Francis got along well with, despite not seeing him much. He'd never seen anyone else going in or out of the flat; there had only ever been him or his dog. So when he saw the man carefully closing the door behind him, Francis was startled and could only stare, his keys dangling from his fingers.

The man stopped when he spotted him and tilted his head. "Well, hello again," he said, sounding amused.

"Hello..." said Francis, slowly.

"If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." The man gestured in the direction of the stairs. Francis was currently blocking the hall completely.

"Oh, sorry," Francis hastily said, stepping out of the way. Unfortunately, the slackening of his grip on the keys in his shock caused them to slip at the movement and fall with a clatter. Hurriedly, Francis crouched to pick them up and get out of the way again. He reached out in the same instant another hand came into view and both he and the man froze with his hand resting lightly over Francis's.

They stayed still for a moment, both of them staring at each other. Francis's heart was beating hard and fast; there was something about the man which made him tingle and practically holding his hand wasn't helping. Slowly, the man drew his hand away and stood.

"Another time, maybe," he murmured and stepped over Francis to walk off, leaving Francis wishing he'd dragged the man into his flat.

* * *

Two weeks later, Francis was at a club with his friends when he spotted the man again. Even inside the darkened room, he was wearing his sunglasses. Instead of disappearing as soon as Francis saw him as before, the man lounged against the bar, watching the dancers. He looked at ease; his mouth was quirked up at the corner in an amused smirk.

It made Francis's heart skip a beat when he saw it.

Of course, now that Francis knew he was interested in the man, he made his way over, hoping the neon lights didn't make him look too awful. When Francis reached the man, he straightened and raised one of his thick eyebrows. "Well, well," he said.

"I'm surprised to see you in here," Francis drawled. "I was beginning to think I'd just imagined a handsome man wandering around my building."

His other eyebrow rose. "Whyever would you think that? Have you never met someone like me before?" The man's tone was amused but Francis couldn't understand why so he decided not to dwell on it.

"Actually, it was more to do with the fact that I didn't manage to seduce you into my bed."

"Hm. Well, you can but try. It won't get you anywhere."

Francis fought a pout. "And why not? Am I not the most handsome man _you've_ ever seen?"

"Maybe," the man said, teasing now. "I'd have to do a survey."

"I could help you with that."

The man chuckled. "As much as I'd like to continue this, I've got to go speak with someone before I have to leave."

"With me?" Francis suggested, hopefully.

"Only if you follow the rabbit," the man replied and pushed himself away from the bar.

"Rabbit?" Francis turned to watch the man go. "What rabbit?"

Looking at Francis over his shoulder, the man said, "The white one, of course." And then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Francis hopelessly disappointed and yearning to follow him.

* * *

He didn't know what 'follow the white rabbit' meant. It was cryptic and made Francis curious but he wasn't sure where to start his search. So he made a vague decision to give up, especially when his head hurt just thinking about it. Besides, he thought, there was very little chance he'd see the man again.

As it turned out, that last point was dead wrong.

Wherever he went outside of his usual routine, he would see him, though he would always walk off before he got the chance to speak to him. At the supermarket, in the bar, with his friends on one of their birthdays, at the bowling alley, even in the hospital when his mother was in a car accident. That last one had unnerved him: he had accepted that the man probably knew some of his friends but to find him when he was worried about his mother (despite her only being there for whiplash) was disconcerting. Deciding to confront him, he followed the man when he made his way through the hospital as if on a mission.

Francis lost him when he reached the lobby. Somehow, the man had slipped through the crowd and disappeared. When he stopped a passing doctor to ask if he'd seen him, the man had shaken his head and carried on. Francis scanned the room once more but found nothing out of the ordinary apart from a receiver hanging down from one of the public telephones. Curious, he made his way over and lifted it to his ear. Hearing only the dialtone, he put it back in its place and decided to return to his mother.

As he turned away, he walked straight into a tall, broad man in a suit. There was something familiar about him but Francis was sure he'd never seen the man's silvery hair before. "Sorry," he said.

"That's not a problem, Mister Bonnefoy."

Surprised, Francis blinked at the man, wondering if he was a doctor. "Do I... know you?" he asked, getting a strong sense of déjà vu.

"I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced yet. My name is Braginsky."

When the stranger didn't say anything else, Francis gave him a nod, trying to subtly sidle away. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Braginsky. I'm afraid I need to go now. My mother is ill, you see."

"No," Braginsky said, shortly. "I need you to come with me."

"What? Why? Who _are_ you?" Francis asked quickly, beginning to feel nervous.

"I am-" Braginsky began but he was interrupted by a shout. Both Francis and Braginsky turned to find the source of the disturbance and saw a man in a long, dark blue coat rushing through the lobby. His hair was a honey-blond with a strand sticking up. The crowd was swiftly parting for him and Francis could see that he held a gun in his hand. For some reason, he was coming straight for Francis and his unlikely companion. The man lifted his hand to point the gun in their direction and Francis yelped and ducked out of the way. 

Braginsky, however, stayed where he was. The gunman must have been a poor shot for, no matter how many cracks of the gun Francis heard, he didn't see Braginsky hit once. Without warning, Braginsky shot forward, arm outstretched. But the gunman was quick to pull another gun from seemingly nowhere, a semi-automatic of some sort. Francis was sure Braginsky would be killed but the man was unnaturally fast, knocking the gun from the gunman's grasp. They exchanged a few blows before the stranger managed to kick Braginsky's legs out from under him. Then the gunman turned and ran, sprinting for the exit.

Once he'd watched Braginsky leap up (Francis wasn't sure why but it seemed strange how he had risen from being flat on his back) and race after him, Francis shot to his feet and hurried to his mother's room. It looked like he should get her discharged and home to safety before something else happened.

* * *

Someone had painted a white rabbit on the side of a bus. 

Francis had almost forgotten about his mystery man until he'd seen that. When he had, he stared at in surprise. He had a split second to make his decision but the thought of that alluring man made him spin on his heel and race after it. Thankfully, the bus had stopped to pick up passengers and Francis was quick to hop on. He asked the driver for a ticket to the end of the line and back before sitting down, his heart racing.

Eventually, the bus came to a quiet part of the city. There were far less shops, lots more abandoned warehouses and even more residential buildings. Some of them had bars and restaurants beneath them but there was less people entering and exiting them than Francis was used to seeing since he lived closer to the centre. Most of the people he could see kept their heads down as they marched by. 

As the bus moved off after he had disembarked and Francis could see across the road, he spotted a small white rabbit drawn onto the corner of a building. It looked like it was peeking down a narrow street beside it and Francis hurried over to do the same. The street was actually more of a long driveway, leading to a squat building at its dead end. Stairs led downwards and Francis made his way along to take a closer look. As it turned out, there was a sign below street level, dirty and hard to make out:  **The White Rabbit** . Francis couldn't tell if it was a closed-down bar or an underground club that was yet to open.

Cautiously, wondering if there was a way to get inside anyway, he made his way down to the door set into the wall beside the main entrance. He raised his hand to knock and suddenly noticed it was slightly ajar. Biting his lip, he looked over his shoulder, wondering if he should just go back to the main street. He leapt out of his skin when he found the man he was looking for coming down the stairs behind him.

"Finally," he said and Francis could picture him rolling his eyes, though he still didn't know their colour. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't find this place." The man strode down the rest of the stairs and past Francis, pushing the door wide. "Follow me."

"What  _ is _ this place?" Francis asked, doing as he was told. The corridor beyond was dim, the only light coming from outside and the emergency lights dotted along the wall.

"This is the place where you can secure your future," the man told him. "Indy tells me that you saw something odd at the hospital."

"Yes..." said Francis, slowly. "This man, Braginsky, he moved... He was so  _ fast _ . It's been bothering me since – how was that possible?"

"It isn't. But I can't tell you more right now."

They emerged from the corridor and into a large room. There was a counter along one wall that had evidently been a bar. A few rickety chairs were dotted about the rest of the space, including in the dip in the centre of the room. An armchair was situated dead centre, currently empty. Around the edges of the room were a small group of people, all of them in varying colours of long coats and dark sunglasses. Francis flicked a quick glance around them, unable to make out any more details in the shadows.

"Who are they?" he asked.

"They're my friends," the man reassured him. "They're here to help you."

"Help me with what?"

"To break free," the man told him. "Here. Sit." He gestured to the armchair and Francis wordlessly obeyed. "My name here is Kirk."

"Like the Captain!" came a voice from the back of the room.

" _ Shut up _ , Indy," Kirk growled, his head whipping around to him. "Not  _ now _ ."

Francis smiled up at 'Kirk'. "Hello. I'm Francis Bonnefoy. It's lovely to meet you properly." He extended his hand.

Kirk stared at him for a moment, ignoring the sniggering that broke out in another corner of the room. Then he reached out and shook his head. "Right," he said. "You've seen the agent who was far too fast. You said it bothered you. Would you like to know more?"

"Well, yes," Francis replied, nodding. 

That made Kirk grin. "Good," he said. "Now, you have two options." He reached both hands into his pockets and pulled them out, turning them over so the backs of his hands were pointed to the floor. "You could forget all about us, absolutely everything, and go back to your...  _ perfect _ ... life. If you want to do that then take this." Opening his fist, Kirk opened his right hand to reveal a little, bright blue pill. It almost seemed to shine with its own light. "Or you can take this one." His left hand opened to reveal a red pill which looked far more dangerous than the blue one. "If you take this, you can stay in Wonderland and see how deep the rabbit hole goes."

Francis looked between them. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on and he didn't know if he wanted to know. But he  _ did _ know what he wanted. "Which one means I can see you again?"

There was a short pause, as if no-one knew quite what to say. Then a few whispers were exchanged around the room. Kirk turned his head towards them and Francis had the sense that he was glaring. Returning his attention to Francis, he said, "The red one guarantees it."

As soon as he'd finished saying the word 'red', Francis reached for it, taking it delicately between thumb and forefinger. "Will I get to see your eyes?"

Amusingly, Kirk shifted, somewhat nervously, Francis thought. "Perhaps," he said, voice gruff.

"Good," said Francis with a smile and swallowed the pill.

* * *

_ Bonus _ :

"Hello, Mister Bonnefoy," said a familiar voice from the door. Francis's eyes went wide, staring into the mirror. Was he really about to meet Kirk in the flesh? When he looked like this? Francis briefly eyed the short, blond stubble on his head and the scruffy clothing he'd been given before he took a silent breath to fortify himself and turned around.

His hair was slightly shorter than Francis had seen it but it was still a mess. He wore a too big, dark green jumper which was stretched out of shape and slipped off one shoulder entirely. The sleeves covered his hands but he was currently gripping them as if he was anxious. His hideous brown trousers had a hole over his left knee so big it almost made the trousers into shorts. A familiar smile pulled at his lips, though it seemed a little forced. All in all, he wasn't as impressive as he had been in... in the 'Matrix'.

But his eyes. His eyes were such a vivid, bright green. They stood out in this dull, dark world that Francis had suddenly been thrust into and he couldn't help but drift to them, seeking their comfort, only stopping himself when he was within reach of Kirk.

"Your eyes," he murmured hoarsely, his throat still not used to talking. "They're..."

"Not what you expected?" Kirk suggested as he turned his head away.

Francis firmly caught his face before Kirk could decide to leave. He turned Kirk's head so they could look into each other's eyes, Kirk's now wide in surprise. "They're beautiful," he said, simply.

Kirk stared at him for a moment. Then he coughed into a fist and stepped back. He held out his hand. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I use 'Kirk' in the Matrix. It's a pleasure to meet you... Francis."

**Author's Note:**

> Ivan and Ludwig and Alfred weren’t gonna be in this, originally. But now they are. (Gilbert was there, too - he’s the one that sniggered when Francis introduced himself properly.)


End file.
